The Chinaman pushed her forward. “Get in, Miss Aldrich, and be quiet."
Claire climbed into the carriage. She made her way to the end of the seat, as far away from the Chinaman as possible. Claire sat silently, willing herself not to be afraid, and failing in the attempt. The cold, clammy sweat of fear dampened her body beneath the black silk she'd been given to wear.
The upcoming rendezvous with Garrett was a blessing and a curse. Claire wanted the comfort of his arms. Christopher wanted him dead. Unsure how she was going to warn Garrett and her brother, Claire tried to think of some signal, something the men would know signified danger. Except for screaming at the top of her lungs, none came to mind.
The carriage slowed to a halt and Claire's heart stopped with it. She could hear the water of San Francisco Bay lapping at the wooden dock and the low-spoken conversation of Chen Loo's men as they discussed what they'd come to the docks to achieve. The night air was perfumed with the scent of the bay, rain-dampened streets, and the lingering odor of dead fish. Between the panels of the carriage curtains, Claire could see the silhouette of a steamship. Evelyn was pulled from the first carriage and tossed into a shallow boat. Two of Chen Loo's men started rowing. Whatever hope Claire had had about Evelyn's help disappeared along with Garrett's former mistress.
Claire felt Chen Loo move. She stiffened as the Chinaman reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk scarf. She knew he was going to gag her with it so she couldn't yell out a warning to Garrett and Donald.
Chapter Nineteen
With deadly intent, Garrett mounted the dark bay Andy had saddled for him. Two saddlebags, bulging with money, were strapped behind him. Hiram was nowhere to be seen and Garrett knew that the investigator was with the men at the docks. Christopher was riding to his right, Donald to his left. Neither man spoke as they mounted and joined Garrett.
They rode toward the docks, without conversation. Garrett's eyes swept the alleyways and streets they passed, looking for anything suspicious. The sky was still black and the street lamps glowed against the fading darkness, casting shadows over the storefronts and houses they passed. The city was still sleeping.
Christopher nudged his horse close to Garrett's. “When we get there, don't let your temper get in the way. The sooner we get the money out of your saddlebags and into the Chinaman's hands, the sooner you'll get Claire."
Garrett bristled at the instructions. If he didn't know better, he'd think Christopher couldn't wait to make Chen Loo fifty thousand dollars richer. “Since I don't speak Chinese, calling the Chinaman a greedy son of a bitch won't do me much good. I'll let you do the talking."
Christopher smiled, then nodded.
The cautious cavalcade reached the docks a short time later. Behind them the eastern horizon was beginning to show the first signs of daylight. In spite of his companions and the men he knew Hiram had dispersed among the nearby buildings, Garrett felt very much alone. It was a new sensation, one he hadn't felt before, and he realized that he was alone. Without Claire his life had lost its value. The disparaging view in which he'd held love a few months ago was gone. Love wasn't a complex emotion. It was primitive and basic, like the need for food and water. Once you felt it, it became a part of you. Just as Claire had become a part of him.
Garrett sat on his horse, his eyes scanning the docks where several small fishing boats were moored. Beyond them, larger ships crowded the Bay, anchored in deeper water. Saddle leather creaked as Garrett shifted his weight and felt the heavy metal of his revolver inside his jacket. He was prepared to kill for Claire and the thought held no remorse. If Chen Loo had harmed her, he would do just that. Kill the man and be glad that he'd done it.
They moved along the docks, until they saw the carriages.
“I'll go on ahead,” Christopher said. “Don't come any closer until I signal you."
“Make sure Claire hasn't been hurt,” Garrett told him.
Garrett's heartbeat quickened as his friend rode forward. He could make out the forms of at least six men. All Chinese. One was sitting at the reins of the second carriage. The others were lined up like soldiers at review. As Christopher approached them, he said something in Chinese. Garrett didn't understand the words and Donald commented that Christopher was speaking too low for him to make out what was being said.
The door of the second carriage opened and Chen Loo got out. Garrett didn't need a formal introduction to know the man. The Chinaman's clothing was enough.
“That's Chen Loo,” Donald said, keeping his voice just above a whisper.
Garrett didn't acknowledge the remark. He was too busy studying the man who had dared to take Claire. He felt a pressure in his chest, like an iron hand squeezing his heart. His hatred for Chen Loo bubbled up from his insides like water gushing from a newly tapped well. It joined the love Garrett felt for Claire, and for a long moment the two conflicting emotions fought for control of Garrett's mind. He took a deep breath, ending the struggle. Claire was more important. Her safety was more important. He'd sit and wait until the right moment before extracting his revenge on the Chinaman.
Claire recognized Christopher's voice. She struggled against the silk rope that had her hands bound behind her back. Her teeth bit into the silken gag that kept her from saying anything to warn Garrett and her brother. When the carriage door opened, she drew back, hating the hands that reached for her.
“You must show yourself, Miss Aldrich,” Chen Loo said, wrapping his hand around her elbow and dragging her toward the door. “But I suggest you remember our previous conversations and realize that any disruption on your part will result in nothing but you being forced to watch while your fiancée and your brother are slain."
Claire wanted to free her hands and wrap them around the Chinaman's fat throat. She wanted to strangle the life out of him, and then she wanted to turn her fury on Christopher Landauer, the deceiving bastard. She'd already seen enough. Evelyn had been pulled from the other carriage and tossed into a small boat. She'd been gagged, as well, her hands and feet bound. Claire had been forced to sit and watch while the young Englishwoman was taken to one of the ships anchored in the Bay.
Once she was outside the carriage, half supported by Chen Loo, half supported by her own wobbling legs, Claire came face-to-face with Christopher Landauer. The man's mouth quirked into a crooked smile.
“Your fiancée is waiting, Miss Aldrich."
Claire said something very unladylike around the gag in her mouth.
Christopher continued smiling.
“Garrett will insist on seeing you before he turns over the money. I recommend that you stand straight and tall and look beautifully defiant while the exchange is being made. After that, it doesn't matter what you do."
Claire looked past Christopher's shoulder. She could make out the shape of two men, mounted on horseback and waiting in the distance. Her eyes were drawn to Garrett and her heart swelled at the mere sight of him. Love rolled through her, pushing the fear away for a brief second, mentally releasing her from the grasp of Chen Loo's hand, and washing away the smirk on Christopher's face. Claire reached for the love, willing it to be enough to see both her and Garrett through the next fatal minutes.
“I'll walk you a short distance from the carriage,” Christopher said, replacing Chen Loo's hand with his own. “You'll stand there until the money is exchanged, then you'll walk with me toward my horse. One wrong move,” he warned her, “and I'll shoot Garrett myself. Understand?"
He pulled back the flap of his coat and Claire saw a gun tucked into the waistband of his trousers.
She nodded. Her mind raced as she stumbled alongside Christopher, hating the need for his hand, but knowing without it she would fall flat on her face. The boardwalk that ran along the length of the waterfront was cold and damp and slick. The sky was beginning to lighten with the first show of dawn. Small streaks of pink and gold hovered on the horizon, heralding the sunrise. The light profiled Garrett's body. She could see the broad expanse of his shoulders and
his dark hair, tousled from a restless night of worry. Claire's feet moved reluctantly, knowing that with each step she took, she brought Garrett and Donald closer to their deaths.
“I've got Claire,” Christopher called out, stopping an equal distance between the two men and the waiting carriages. “Ride forward and toss the saddlebags on the ground. Once Chen Loo has them, I can put Claire on my horse and we can get the hell out of here."
Garrett gritted his teeth. Chen Loo had Claire dressed like a Chinese coolie. Her clothes had either been stripped away or taken. Her feet were bare and he knew she must be cold. Other than that, she appeared to be okay. But he couldn't be sure, not until he'd heard her say the words. He nodded to Donald and Claire's brother reached over to unbuckle the saddlebags. Once they were free, he handed them to Garrett.
“Take the gag out of her mouth,” Garrett shouted. He was holding the saddlebags up so that Chen Loo could see. The Chinaman hadn't spoken a word or moved an inch since Christopher had taken custody of Claire.
Christopher shook his head. “She's fine, Garrett. Just get the money over here. Chen Loo isn't a patient man."
“Neither am I,” Garrett retorted. “Take the gag out of her mouth and let go of her arm. Now."
The two friends faced each other. Claire could feel the tension in Christopher's body, the uncertainty. She looked at Garrett, willing her eyes to send him a message, praying he'd understand what she couldn't say. As dawn's faint light inched over the horizon, making the night a thing of the past, she could see Garrett's face more clearly. He had the same dark expression he'd had that night in the hallway, when he'd caught her leaving the library. There was an animalistic alertness about him, a primitive savagery that showed in his eyes.
Claire felt Christopher move. He was reaching inside his coat.
The next second was an explosion of sounds and actions.
Christopher released her arm and shoved Claire to the ground. She landed with a bone-wrenching thud as the sound of gunfire cracked the silence. Garrett called her name and the guttural summons brought her head up. The saddlebags had been dumped on the ground and Garrett was running toward her. She tried to sit up, only to have him reach her and push her back to the ground, covering her body with his own.
“Don't move,” Garrett told her.
Claire couldn't argue. The gag was still in her mouth.
Garrett felt warm and solid after the cold uncertainty of the night and Claire didn't move. She lay under him while he raised his pistol and fired. The odor of sulfur assaulted her nostrils and tears came to her eyes. Men were shouting, some in English, some in Chinese.
Claire wanted to see what was happening, but Garrett kept her pinned beneath him. She managed to turn her head toward the carriage. Chen Loo was getting inside, his back to the fight while his men formed a protective circle around him. Claire heard Donald's voice shouting out a curse and a prediction of where Chen Loo would wake up—in hell. A shot rang out and Claire watched as a chunk of wood exploded from the carriage door, a few inches away from the Chinaman's head.
The carriage horses snorted and tried to break free from the harnesses that restricted them. They reared up as one of Chen Loo's men tried to control them and the Chinese man was forced to back away. The carriage rolled forward, then back, as the driver struggled to get the animals under control.
“Hold on to me,” Garrett said, as he came to his feet and scooped Claire up in his arms. He ran toward a building, a wooden structure with lead windows and a weather-battered sign. Claire clung to his neck, her head buried against his chest. She felt Garrett's arms give way and she was passed to another man. She didn't recognize him. He was built like a lumberjack, but he handled her like a kitten.
“Don't move, ma'am,” he said. “This ain't over yet."
The man pulled the gag out of her mouth, then turned around, pistol drawn, to help Garrett. Claire sucked in a deep breath. She wanted to crawl to where Garrett was kneeling, his body shielded by several large shipping crates, but she knew she would only be in his way. She was the cause of the fight, but it was a man's fight, so she sat where she was, praying the gunfire would cease and that Garrett and her brother would survive uninjured.
“That son of a bitch,” she heard Garrett shout out. His raised his gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
Claire heard the agonizing sound of a man's harsh scream as the bullet found its mark. She wondered if the man was Christopher Landauer or Chen Loo.
The fighting stopped as abruptly as it had started. The air was heavy with sulfur smoke and the sounds of frightened horses. Garrett stood up, looked at her, smiled, then moved away from the building. Claire climbed awkwardly to her feet and stumbled after him. The lumberjack stopped her.
“You'd better stay put, ma'am,” he said.
Claire didn't obey him this time. When she moved, he stepped aside and she hobbled out into the street. Several men, all Chinese, were lying on the ground. Some were moving and moaning in pain, others were as still as death. Claire looked for Christopher Landauer. Garrett was standing over his body.
“I'm sorry,” Claire said. “He was your friend."
Garrett turned around. He walked to where she was standing, her weight balanced on one foot, and pulled her into his arms. “I don't know who he was,” he said. “But he wasn't my friend."
She leaned back slightly and looked up at him.
“Are you all right?” His voice sounded hoarse and he looked tired. Bone-weary tired.
“They scared me, but they didn't hurt me,” she told him. She was trembling with an aftermath of fear and relief. Her eyes were large and luminous, her hands still bound behind her back. She looked so vulnerable, a young beautiful woman caught by the cruelty of the world.
Garrett cursed out loud. Before he could ask for a knife to free her, one of the men Hiram had hired stepped forward. He handed Garrett a wicked-looking blade, about six inches long and honed to a razor-sharp edge. Garrett gently turned Claire around, and being careful not to cut her, he sliced the silk rope, freeing her hands.
Tears were forming in Claire's eyes as she turned around and looked up at him. She reached for his shoulders to keep from falling and found herself lifted up and held against his chest. She closed her eyes, loving the hard embrace.
“Claire, are you all right?"
Her brother was standing a few feet away. His right hand was cradling his left arm and she could see blood seeping through the dark cotton of his shirt.
“Donald!” She squirmed in Garrett's arms, but he didn't release her.
“I'm fine,” Donald told her, grimacing as he moved the injured arm. “That's more than I can say for Chen Loo and his henchmen."
Claire looked toward the carriage. The door was open and she could see Chen Loo's body, slumped lifelessly against the seat. The front of the Chinaman's silk tunic was stained with blood.
“It's over,” Garrett told him. “I'll never let anyone hurt you again. Never."
“It wasn't your fault,” Claire said, trying to soothe him.
“I should have locked you in your room,” Garrett said. “When I think..."
“Then don't think,” Claire said, cradling his handsome face in her hands. “Kiss me, instead."
Garrett couldn't oblige her fast enough. She groaned softly against his lips. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was hard and primitive, because the circumstances were primitive, because life and death could be brutal and he needed the primal reassurance that his woman was where she belonged—in his arms.
Claire returned the kiss, needing it as badly as Garrett, knowing now that he did love her. He hadn't validated it with words, but his actions had proven the authenticity of his feelings. He'd come for her, protected her during the gunfight, risking his own life. The words would come later, when they had time to themselves. Sweeping her up in his arms, Garrett marched toward the horses. He didn't look at Claire, but over his shoulder as he shouted out more orders. “Hiram, get a message to Dr. Baldwin. Tell
him to meet me at the house on Bartlett Street. Then send for the authorities. What you can't tell them, I'll explain later."
“No,” Claire said, suddenly remembering Evelyn Holmes. So much had happened in just a short time, her mind was still catching up.
“No, what?” Garrett asked, lifting her into the saddle.
The loose trousers made it easy for Claire to sit the horse. She steadied herself with the saddle horn while Garrett got on behind her. He reached forward to gather the reins and Claire snuggled back against him, feeling completely safe.
“We can't leave,” Claire said. She pointed toward the bay. “Evelyn's on that ship."
“Evelyn?"
“Evelyn Holmes,” Claire told him. “Your old mistress,” she added, no longer afraid of the future. “Christopher kidnapped her, too. He was ... he was going to steal your money, then sell us to a man in Shanghai."
The stream of curses that followed her revelation burned Claire's ears. She'd never heard such language before, not from Garrett, or her brother, who joined in the chorus.
Claire decided to wait before telling Garrett that Christopher Landauer and Chen Loo had been half brothers.
“Hiram.” Garrett's thunderous shout brought a slender man running at top speed. The investigator stepped around the dead body of the man who had gotten on the trolley behind Claire.
She realized she didn't know the man's name, then decided it didn't matter. Whoever he was, he was already paying for his sins. The devil wasn't negligent in collecting his followers.
Garrett pointed toward the ship Claire had indicated. “Get the harbormaster. Make sure that ship doesn't leave San Francisco Bay.” His hand moved, sweeping the area. “Then get one of Chen Loo's men to tell you where he was hiding Claire. Search the house. God only knows what you'll find."
The slender man, who surprised Claire by looking more like a bank clerk than a private investigator, assured Garrett that he would take care of everything.
By the time they reached the small house on Bartlett Street the sun was creeping over the rooftops of the city. The cottage was painted a pristine white with dark blue shutters. A small flower garden bordered the narrow porch.
A Gentleman's Bargain Page 28
